


One Step, One Breath

by Jaydeemz



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Bit of angst too, Coda, Coliver Fluff, M/M, Spoilers for Episode 15, reaction fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 08:19:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3481019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaydeemz/pseuds/Jaydeemz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coda for after episode 15. After days of research, Oliver finally realizes he needs to let go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Step, One Breath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wordsinpaper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsinpaper/gifts).



> Thank you, Dina. <3

Oliver woke up still sprawled on his vast living room couch, just before dawn, with a few strained muscles in his neck. His first emotion was surprise that he’d actually managed to fall asleep despite the last few nights, which had been filled with insomnia and worries. The lamp beside him was still turned on, lighting up the room for him to study the heavy medical book on his lap, opened to the sixth article on HIV.

For them to study, actually.

This was the third day since Oliver told Connor the news, and yet the law student was still there. Literally – Connor had refused to leave his side, letting the calls from his colleagues go straight to voicemail until a tall, dark haired man named Frank came to knock on apartment 303’s door at 9pm the previous night. Connor had only stepped out one minute to speak to the man, and then had walked back inside with a promise that it wouldn’t happen again.

Oliver had been so numb that he hadn’t even considered how strange it was that Annalise would send someone to check up on Connor. He’d just underlined another passage about symptoms – about his future – and had ignored Connor’s growing look of concern. 

Speaking of the law student… he had fallen asleep with his shoulder blades against the seat cushion of the couch, and his head thrown back on the fabric. He was silent, looking more like he was resting than asleep, but the deep controlled breaths gave him away. Connor’s expensive laptop was on sleep mode in front of him on the coffee table, and would probably open to an online resource page, and he had a notebook opened to a page filled with his handwriting on his lap. The pen had fallen from his fingers and had rolled to Oliver’s feet sometime during the night. 

Silently, Oliver transferred the encyclopedia of medicine from his lap to the seat and stood, before he made his way to the kitchen to close the light. His oven clock blinked 4:45 am at him and he sighed, weighing the possibilities of the day. He should probably urge Connor to move to the bed with him so he wouldn’t wreck his neck any further, but the dark circles under Connor’s eyes – he spent the last three nights holding Oliver tightly, kissing his hair and idly running his fingers over his spine to try to relax him – made him hesitate. 

He remembered Connor’s insistence that he take care of himself, however, and decided on a shower. Then, maybe some food, if he could manage to chew with how dry his mouth had become, or swallow past the knot in his throat. But first, a shower was in order. 

He undressed blindly in the bathroom before opening the light and stepping quickly under the stream. He chose the water cool and refreshing instead of hot like Connor imposed to relax him. Minutes passed by, Oliver breathed, and finally allowed his own brain to stop thinking about the damned five minutes spent with the nurse at the clinic.

Eventually, he opened his eyes, and abruptly shut off the water without even washing himself as a sudden urge to move swept over him. He stepped from the shower without a moment’s hesitation and grabbed a towel, drying himself as he walked to his bedroom, the luxurious feel of a soft towel against his cold skin familiar and comforting. He opened the closet as he kneeled down and immediately reached for the bottom, where he pulled out a box labelled “summer”. He rummaged through it only a moment before he stood, moved around his bedroom, and slid on some boxers, and then some shorts and a t-shirt. One quick reach later and he had pulled on a hoodie, realized in a streak of rapid thoughts that the sweater was Connor’s, that he didn’t care, and that most likely Connor wouldn’t care either since he was currently wearing Oliver’s pajamas right now.

Ten minutes later, he was walking on the cold sidewalk as the sun began to rise in the distance, and Oliver finally broke into a run. 

He was never the athletic type, and couldn’t for the life of him understand how people went to the gym for fun, but he had been coaxed into a few early-morning runs with Connor. The rhythmic throb of his own sneakers hitting the pavement was the only sound outside at this ungodly hour, but it silenced the darker thoughts in Oliver’s head. This, this he could control. He could speed up or slow down, or climb stairs, or rest. He stopped frequently at water fountains, whenever the memory of Connor’s voice reprimanding him for not drinking broke through his cleared thoughts. He couldn’t control the news he’d received, but life wasn’t over, and Oliver briefly regretted ignoring his boyfriend’s pleas to leave the apartment for a walk. 

Being outside felt good, and the stifling panic that had been building in his chest might’ve been caused by the darkness of his apartment, and of his own mind. 

Oliver slowed to a walk as he reached his street an hour later. He waved at a few people from his apartment building as they left for work. He stopped to pet a dog and exchange a few words with the owner. He opened a door for a man struggling with the three boxes piled in his grip. 

Life went on, and so should Oliver’s, really. 

After the man had thanked him profusely for the help, Oliver took off again. He raced one last time around the block as fast as he could, earning a few chuckles from those he encountered – and he even managed to slip in a Captain America reference when he ran past a jogger wearing a Marvel t-shirt – and finally made his way up his block’s stairs, panting. He was drenched in sweat, but he could feel the blood rushing through his body, and the smile that was tugging at his face felt foreign after a few days spent frowning. 

The door was unlocked when he walked in, and Connor bolted from the couch and whirled around with relief pouring over his expression. He stepped toward Oliver with an exclamation of, “Thank God! You could’ve left a note!” And then, an incredulous question of, “… Did you go for a run?”

Oliver felt better during that moment than he’d felt in days. He took a few steps toward Connor, his breaths still ragged as he wiped his forehead with his hand, and murmured seductively, “Take off your clothes.”

“What?” The hesitant smile that broke over Connor’s face was real; nothing like the half-smiles laced with concern that the law student had been sporting since that night. Oliver stepped forward and crushed their lips together in a searing kiss, loving how Connor’s body fit so perfectly by his and how he could feel him grinning in the kiss. He felt the law student mouth the words, ”You’re crazy.”

He kissed the teasing words away until Connor was wearing a smile so large that Oliver considered telling him to stop before he strained something. With one hand still threaded loosely in Connor’s hair, Oliver closed the medical book he’d left on the seat of the sofa before he gave Connor’s lips a last peck.

“We’ve done enough research, I think,” he whispered, letting the unspoken apology run silently past them. He was the one to insist on the research, on invading his every thought with his disease. He’d refused to become satisfied until he knew absolutely everything he could do to minimize risks and symptoms.

Connor nodded, his head now buried in the crook of Oliver’s neck as they hugged tightly, and the next kiss silently spoke of forgiveness… and hope. Later, after a shower and breakfast and a movie chosen on Netflix mostly because they both saw it last week and could make out through most of it, Oliver settled with his head on Connor’s chest and his arm around his waist, letting the buildup of exhaustion draw him into a restorative nap. 

It was all familiar to him; the soft wool of Connor’s shirt, the scratch of his beard on Oliver’s forehead, the way that Connor’s fingers had taken up a habit of dragging slowly over Oliver’s spine. It was like nothing had changed. Oliver’s toe nudged the book – he’d thrown it on the floor earlier – until it was out of sight under the couch, before he lifted his leg to tangle it with Connor’s until they were both comfortable.

Things had changed, yes, but this? It hadn’t. 

They’d take life one step at a time, and one breath after another. 

And life went on.


End file.
